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The Holder of Quintessence
In any city, in any country, make your way to a nightclub. It must be between the hours of 11:00 pm and 1:00 am, local time. Inform the bouncer outside that you have an appointment with someone called the Holder of Quintessence. Should he smirk and make a mark on his clipboard, then I suggest you head inside and get as hammered as possible. Your life will be over within forty-five minutes, and alcohol will help dull the pain. However, should he stare at you as if you just asked him something moronic, thank him and make your way back home. When you open your front door, you will notice that every aspect of your home, while still recognizable, will be quite different. Your walls may have changed to an awful color, while the TV might show only depictions of brutal murder. Your lights may glow with the color of blood, and do not be surprised if your pets begin having an intelligible conversation with you. Shut and lock your door behind you and sit in your favorite spot in the house. Precisely one hour from when you locked your door, you will hear a loud knock coming from it. Do not move. Do not acknowledge that you even noticed it in any way. Also, don't look behind you at any point. Just don't. Your guest will let himself in. At this point, know that the Holder has judged you worthy, however don't look at him. Not yet. If, instead, no one enters your house, then you will live out the rest of your days in this alien world. The environment outside has changed drastically, as well, and no one here likes you. You are the reason for their torture. Once the Holder makes himself comfortable, it is safe to gaze upon him. His appearance cannot be defined using words, and for the sake of my own sanity, I will not attempt to describe him. He will sit about, not paying you any mind, and flip through the channels on your TV, eat unidentifiable food from your refrigerator, and may well murder your pet. After he has amused himself, he will lean back and make a noise akin to an elderly man clearing phlegm from his throat. Now is the time to ask: "What is He?" If he still doesn't acknowledge you, then I suggest you attack him then and there. A hellish demise by his hands is far preferable to what would await you after he got bored and left. However, should he turn to face you, he will, in excruciating detail tell you everything about Him; his fears, his desires, his powers and his needs. It is likely that the first word uttered by his alien tongue will shatter your fragile sanity, but endure. He will not stop talking until you finally succumb to madness and lay, a gibbering mass, on the floor. If the Holder is pleased by how long you lasted, then he will, in the most excruciating way possible, cleave open your skull and remove your brain. Don't worry. In your state, that will be the least of your worries. You will awaken at exactly 2:00 AM, one day after you went to the night club, remembering nothing of the description of Him, but recalling with unnatural clarity every other aspect of your journey. You will be lying under your bed (I hope for your sake that your bed doesn't actually touch the floor, else the cops will be scratching their heads about this one). Your thoughts will be whirling and it won't take you long to realize that you have an entirely new thought process; complex riddles and insolvable puzzles are as simple as the product of two and two. No concept can boggle you, and your now-alien brain will understand with absolute clarity any horror you should encounter. It is suggested that the first thing you do with your new found intellect is find a way to get a steady supply of human brains, as it is the only substance that can now nourish you. If you have already visited the Holder of The Worm, then you will starve to death before the week is out. Your brain is object number 523 of 538. It alone is capable of guiding you through the process of assembling them.